


The Sun and The Moon - Overwatch (McHanzo)

by StrawberrySundaes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Collab with a friend, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, Reincarnation, Sexual Content, Sleep Deprivation, Symbolism, mhm mhm otp boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberrySundaes/pseuds/StrawberrySundaes
Summary: After frequent dreams of the same tattooed male with a golden scarf, McCree finally gets to meet him in person at the Gibraltar watchpoint, home of Overwatch. Getting off on the wrong feet, these two did not get along because of the archer's constant annoyance of the cowboy's presence. But somehow McCree thought he's been in this situation before. Keep reading to find out what the future holds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hanzo Shimada is a beautiful ma- 
> 
> (NO MCCREE IS BETTER!)
> 
> That's not the point what 
> 
> (it kind of is-)
> 
> Okay so basically this is the warning page because oh boy you're in for a ride- 
> 
> (save a horse, ride a cowboy~)
> 
> Levy please stop yourself I'm-
> 
> Do NOT read this fan-fiction if: 
> 
> 1\. You are a cinnamon roll precious babby who needs protection (aka too young for this shit)
> 
> 2\. You cannot stand violence, profanity, sexual and mature content, and alcohol mentions and drug use (oooh I'm triggered just from you saying that!!1!!1!!!)
> 
> 3\. You cannot handle emotional experiences such as a character going through a phase of a panic attack due to a traumatising experience being relived or passing through anxieties of their own. (NO NOT MORE TRIGGERS! [can you hear my sarcasm yet?])
> 
> 4\. You cannot handle slow burns and yaoi, because McHanzo is yes, a homosexual pairing. (if you've made it this far through the warnings, I'm sure you'll be fine with this :') )
> 
> I'll update this once I have more to say (yay more work for me)
> 
> (all words in brackets are mine, your loving, sarcastic Editor; Levy. I will be helping [annoying] the author of this fanfic [Syl], but the plot is entirely hers, I claim no part of it! I only capitalise shit, put commas so you don't pass out while reading aloud, and add fancy words to make the chapters longer. Enjoy reading =^.^=)  
> Also, this is unfinished and I will be publishing many more so be on the lookout for that!

_He’s back again._

 

_The harsh, hot wind carried with it irritating specks of sand and dust, the stiff breeze embracing McCree’s unwashed hair, causing the gunslinger to put a hand on his now-dusty cowboy hat. His red serape blew about him like a bird flapping its wings, slightly annoying but nothing he wasn't used to. His sharp gaze wandered along the horizon, searching for something. Where was he? Still at the same place, standing in the middle of a sandstorm, with nothing but dry dirt beneath him and dusty, humid air. That is, until his eyes caught sight of a bright yellow.. no- golden, scarf; flapping in the wind as if a ribbon dancer were clutching its tips. A well muscled, tattooed male stood there, one side bare, where his tattoo showed proudly. He had arrows loaded in his pack, and his fingers wrapped tightly around a well-made bow. The dark haired male was going to turn around, but-_

 

McCree Woke up with a gasp, bolting upright and tossing the clingy sheets off, which were now damp with his sweat; it was that same damn dream again... beads of cold sweat rolled down his muscular chest as he panted for breath, sticking in the coarse hair there. He looks around his dorm, still dark and cool, despite the light of the late morning sky peeking through a slight opening in the curtains on one of the windows. The cowboy groaned softly and put a hand to his head to try and ease the throbbing headache brought on by his dream, then stumbled out of bed and padded silently into the bathroom on bare feet.

He splashed some cold water on his sleep-weary face, then leaned on the off-white sink as he stared into the mirror; not to admire himself, but to search his own eyes for elusive answers; for the dream, although short, haunted him as if he's experienced it before. It feels so _real_. As if it was a sign, or something he'd forgotten...  _Déjà vu,_ as Lena would say. The gunslinger looked away from his reflection with a sad shake of his head, there were no answers to be found there... he stripped off the boxers he'd been sleeping in, then stepped into the shower, his thoughts fluttering from one thing to another in a twisted way that only made his headache worse . 

_Maybe I need to visit Doctor Ziegler again._

He ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, then padded silently back to the bedroom and collected his clothes, which were scattered all over the floor, to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of clean boxers; possibly the only part of his outfit he ever washed. He pulled on his familiar cowboy outfit, complete with gun belt and guns. 

Last of all he put on his serape, the same colour as the one he was wearing in the dream, only newer and less tattered... he fingers the holes in the edge of it thoughtfully

_maybe the dream was a vision of the future? No, it wouldn't feel so familiar then.. but maybe that's just because I've this dream so many times now._

"I'm thinking too much" he said out loud to himself, then put on his cowboy hat and wandered out into the halls, his boots tapping quietly on the hard floor.  Food would help, make him feel more normal.  

As he enters the mess hall, he pauses for a second to look around Reinhardt sits at the middle of the table, his bulky, muscular figure seeming to dominate the room, Lena and Torbjorn sit on either side of him, looking even smaller than usual next to Reinhardt. Genji, a cyborg,  sits across from Lena, his mask off as he ate; Lucio next to him and Winston by his side. A faint smile tugged at the cowboy's lips, ah yes, the beautiful atmosphere when friends reunite; he felt better just from watching them, an odd bunch, but they somehow managed to get along well. McCree always felt as if something was missing though. Lena then notices the tired gunslinger at the door, and raising her hand to wave him over. He flashed her a tired smile as he walked over and sat down beside her, after grabbing a plate of food and some juice of course. 

"Something wrong, Eastwood?" Lúcio asked, noticing the dark circles under the cowboy's eyes as he took a sip from his orange juice. McCree chuckled nervously 

"Naw, It ain't nothin' darlin', I'm just..." he paused for a second to find an excuse that didn't make him sound crazy "a lil' tired is all. No need ta worry yourselves." He shrugged and took a large bite of his tomato sandwich. he didn't have to talk when he had a face full of food.  

"Ya sure, Eastwood?" He persisted, tilting his head to the side as he studied McCree.

"As sure as a man in a duel." the cowboy replied, his words muffled by the food. 

The rest of the meal passed like normal,  with occasional small talks and reliving old times. Reinhardt almost broke the table; laughing and banging his large fists on the poor piece of furniture when Lena told him about the time when they were playing truth or dare, and  Torbjorn had to dance to an old "anime" (yes, only Genji  knows what it is) song called  _Hare Hare Yukai._ McCree sat listening in silence, occasionally letting out soft laughter when someone told a joke, though his mind was elsewhere. None of the people on the table brought up the topic of the explosion.

After breakfast was time for an appointment with the doctor. 

"That same dream again, is it?" Angela asked, offering McCree a Turkish delight, which he politely refused.

"Yeah. Bizarre suff. Ever had a patient like this before?" The cowboy asked, hoping he wasn't the only one, and also hoping he wasn't crazy. Angela takes a sip of her chamomile tea before replying

"I am a  doctor, Jesse, not a therapist. But yes, I've had patients who's had the same condition. No one has had it for... how long has yours been occurring again?" McCree shrugged and wrinkled his nose slightly as he thought about it 

"Ten. Nah, about twelve years I think" he sighed

"Yes, no one I know of has had it for that long." She said, tapping her chin. "anything new this time?" Jesse shook his head

"Still can't see the bastard's face. Never got ta' see him clearly; it's just a sandstorm, the blue storm bow, and that scarf. The image haunts my mind even though it's really damn short. Oh yeah, and he had a tattoo as well..." McCree muttered. He swung his legs up and set them on Angela's work table, causing her to glower at him. 

"Huh" She took another sip of her tea. "that's odd. Can you give me the full description of the dream? Every single detail, place, the probable time, and the people in it." She questioned, placing her cup on the table. And so he did, although his description lingered mostly on the man he saw, the tattoo, the long black hair, the golden scarf, and the bow he carried .

"That's even stranger... Not one patients of mine can describe such specific details..." She frowned thoughtfully, and Jesse sighed impatiently. 

"I told ya about this two times already, didn't I? Besides, I've been having the same dream for over ten years, doc." He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, knocking his hat off into his lap 

"maybe it's time to consider the superstitious side of the story." Jesse fixed his hair, and his hat, then guestured for her to continue. The blonde adjusts her glasses and leans back against her chair. "The same person, same place, reoccurring dream..." a small pause "...I'd say that your subconsciousness is creating something or someone to fill in that void in your life, but..." the doctor reaches to the counter and sets down her empty cup of tea "...I'd say that person is real. And there's an unsolved problem you have to fix. And whoever was in that dream, you've already met them before."  

 _An unsolved problem, eh?  It really must be a sign,_   _and if I've met them before... why can't i remember?_


End file.
